Visions
by Fire The Canon
Summary: It wasn't until that moment, with her sweet, gentle lips against his and his arms tightly around her waist, that he realised he'd seen this before. Partly AU.


_**Written for Schermionie's Through the Trapdoor Challenge: Challenge 2 - Write about someone falling asleep or who has already fallen asleep.**_

_**Written for ToxicRainfall's Your Favourite Hogwarts House Boot Camp using the prompt 'fairy tale'**_

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**Visions**

They'd started out as just dreams – nightmares – on his eighth birthday. After a day filled with presents, cake and games, he was finally settling into his bed, exhausted. His mother kissed his forehead, telling him a happy birthday one more time, and he smiled as she left his room (making sure to leave the door open just a crack).

Still thinking of the new toys he'd been given, and the delicious chocolate cake his mother had made, he drifted peacefully into a deep sleep.

He dreamed of a girl that night; a really annoying, irritating girl with bushy hair and big teeth. Having her there just annoyed him, and he couldn't understand why he felt so much hatred for a girl he didn't even know.

But he knew he hated her, and he knew that if she were real, she would be someone he would never be friends with.

…

When he was eleven, he boarded the Hogwarts Express, partly terrified, partly thrilled to finally be going to Hogwarts. He tried to join his brothers in their compartment, but they refused him. He didn't want to join his other brother for fear of boredom, so he found a near empty one.

Wasn't that Harry Potter sitting inside? _Harry Potter was alone?_ The idea confused him, but it was the only empty spot on the whole train. With all the courage he could muster, he slid open the door and asked if he could join.

He hadn't expected for Harry to be so nice – so normal – but he quickly came to like the famous eleven-year-old, and suddenly, Hogwarts didn't seem that scary.

They were interrupted a little while later by a girl who looked oddly familiar. He couldn't quite place where he had seen her before, but he instantly didn't like her. She was bossy, and had really big teeth, and she thought she was really clever.

Her name was Hermione Granger, and all she cared about was making sure she knew more than everyone else.

That night, he dreamt of being kissed. He was restless, and confused, and the girl didn't have a face. But it felt nice, and his heart pounded in his chest as his arms wrapped tightly around her in a warm embrace, lifting her off her feet.

He was older in that dream, but he seemed to be very happy.

…

He never spoke of that dream to anyone. Not even years later when it all fell into place. Dreaming about kissing girls at eleven was not something he wished others to know.

He had other dreams over the years. Some seemed normal, and others were very odd. Those that felt odd always seemed to come true. Once he'd dreamed that he, Harry and Hermione had found Mrs Norris hanging on a wall, and the very next day, it had happened.

At the age of thirteen, he was standing at an altar in his very best dress-robes. It felt like a million butterflies had exploded inside of him, and all he wanted was to chew his nails until he had none left.

_She's not coming_, a small voice inside of his head said. He never bothered to find out who _she_ was, but Harry was standing beside him, dressed-up, too, and he realised what he must have been dreaming about.

"She'll be here, mate," he said, clapping him on the back. "She loves you more than anything in this world."

There was part of him that seemed to know that, but then another very loud part thought _she_ must be crazy for loving him. Surely, _she_ could do better than him. Surely, he wasn't worth _her_ time.

He woke up in a sweat that night, terrified of the intensity of his feelings. His heart was pounding against his chest in a way he had never experienced before. What was this strange feeling? he wanted to know.

But the answer came to him quickly.

_Love_, a voice said. His dream-self loved his future bride more than his heart could handle.

It was after that dream that he started to take an interest in girls. Well, one particular one. Now that they were older, he realised that she was actually quite pretty. And she wasn't a bossy know-it-all. She was smart.

He liked that about her.

…

"_Daddy! Daddy! Look at me!" A little girl swung from a tree branch upside down. Her knees hung over the thick branch, and she waved to her father from upside down. _

_Moments later, a younger boy appeared, carrying some rocks in his arms. He took them over to show to his father._

"_Hugo, what have you found?"_

"_Some rocks. Shiny rocks." Hugo passed them to his father who pretended to examine them with interest._

"_Good find, mate," he responded after a while._

_The boy beamed._

_Both children had red hair like their father, and the freckles to go with it. Ron Weasley found himself wondering why neither of them looked very much like their mother, yet he couldn't really put a face to her anyway. He just knew that she was a wonderful mother and an even better wife, and that if anything were to ever happen to her, he wouldn't have a clue what to do._

_She was the glue to that family, he decided. The one thing that kept them all together. _

_She was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, and even after ten years of marriage, he couldn't believe that she wanted him. He couldn't believe that those two beautiful, happy children that were playing before him were part of him. _

_He just didn't understand what he had done to deserve it. Maybe he shouldn't have been this happy._

"Ron… Ron!" He was shaken awake to a worried looking Harry standing over him. "Ron, wake up!"

"I'm awake," he growled, pushing his friend away. How dare Harry disturb him from such a nice dream. He'd been with Rosie and Hugo, and…. He looked up.

"Who's Hugo?" Harry wanted to know.

"What?"

"Hugo? Rosie? Who are they?"

"I-I don't know." That was the truth, of course. They didn't exist. They were just in his dream. He'd been dreaming about children – _his_ children. And he'd loved them so much.

"Well, there's Quidditch training in an hour," Harry said. "You better get up."

Ron nodded. What an odd thing to be dreaming about.

…

At seventeen, he didn't even need to be asleep this time. It was just after he'd stupidly left his only friends. It was nearing Christmas, and he was hiding out in a pub in the middle of nowhere.

An elderly couple – Muggles, probably – were walking past, hand in hand. As he watched them from his window, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to love someone for so long. To hold their hand even when you knew you were only a few years from death.

The vision came to him right after that. He saw it as clear as day. There he was, sitting in a chair by a bed, and someone was in that bed.

He needn't have looked too closely to realise who it was, and he felt his older self's heart breaking.

Hermione. It was Hermione. He knew those eyes anywhere. He knew that mouth. He _loved_ that face. And there she was, old and dying, and there was nothing he could do.

His future self just held onto her hand, his heart bursting with love as she smiled at him. There were two other people in the room with them – a young man and woman – and they looked vaguely familiar, but he didn't ponder on the thought for too long.

His eyes remained firmly on the woman he loved before him, and all he wanted was to take her back to the time where they were young, happy, and free. He wanted to go back to the time before the war (_what war?_) and wished he'd told her how he felt sooner.

She seemed to read his thoughts, because her eyes flicked to him, and she squeezed his hand. "Everything turned out perfectly," she whispered.

He smiled bravely at her. All he wanted was for it to be him. Why wasn't he the one in that bed? Why did she have to go before him? It didn't seem fair.

After that, he was returned to the present, and the elderly couple had disappeared. He was still in the small room in that pub. The snow-covered street was empty, and he had still done that foolish thing of leaving his best friend and… _her_.

He regretted it even more, but (and he didn't understand why) that vision had given him hope. It was a warning – a sign, perhaps – that he was not to give up.

He couldn't explain it, but knew that one day he would find her again, and that she would forgive him. Maybe she even loved him, too.

…

He hadn't intended for it to happen like that (he'd just been thinking logically), but he wasn't going to say no when she threw herself at him. Soft lips pressed against his, and he lifted her off her feet in an embrace he had been longing for, for what felt like years.

Harry tried to interrupt, but they ignored him. No, this was their moment. War or not, this was _their_ time.

Her kiss said it all. _I forgive you. I love you. I want you_. And he needed her. He'd wanted this for ages – he was desperate – but now that he was finally here, it felt all too familiar. It was like he _had_ been here before.

It was déjà vu. A really _powerful_ déjà vu.

And then it hit him. Then he realised. He _had_ been here before.

It wasn't until that moment, with her sweet, gentle lips against his and his arms tightly around her waist, that he realised he'd seen this before. He'd lived this kiss many years ago. It had already happened.

He'd seen how happy she would make him; how much he would come to love her, and she him. He'd seen their two beautiful children and how much he would love them. He knew that her death would be the hardest thing he would ever have to go through and that he would miss her terribly for the two years he'd live without her. He also knew that they would have five happy and healthy grandchildren.

Those dreams he'd somewhat tossed aside over the years were suddenly coming back to him. She'd never had a face, but he realised now that it was her. It had always been her in those dreams. She'd been the one he'd loved so much that it hurt.

It almost felt like a fairy tale, but it was better – _much_ better.

They were both here now (finally), and for that moment, it was all that mattered. For that moment, he was only going to live in the present, because that was where she was.

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_**So this is something a little different, but I hope you liked it. I had a lot of fun writing this. It was an idea that popped into my head just the other night... Ron being about to see the future, but not really realising it. I'd really appreciate it if you could tell me your thoughts on this! Thanks.**_


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